


where we are (here)

by Murf1307



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fix-It, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 19:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3221273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murf1307/pseuds/Murf1307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armando's back, but that doesn't fix everything.  It is, however, a start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	where we are (here)

**Author's Note:**

> written for [transboyjackkelly](http://transboyjackkelly.tumblr.com)'s tumblr prompt, "'Are you flirting with me?' Alex/Darwin.

The thing about Alex Summers, Armando thinks, is that the kid really has no idea how to flirt. Which is endearing, in its way, but awfully difficult to deal with.  
  
Armando is never actually sure if Alex _is_  flirting with him, to be honest, but it's clear from the way he acts that he'd be...less than receptive to anything overt.  So Armando just keeps on with what he's been doing, because it seems to be working out all right for both of them.  
  
Like right now, for example.  Admittedly, him dying had set them back some.  In the aftermath, his body had flinched away if Alex made an unexpected movement -- not that he wanted to, but his mutation associated that with danger, with damn near _death_ , now.  
  
He's getting past it.  Right now, though, he and Alex are hanging out on the roof of the mansion, and the sun is setting, and for now, nobody is in any danger.  
  
Of course, Alex keeps sweeping him with his eyes, like he's not sure he's real.  They haven't gotten past that, yet.  Alex is still scared.  
  
Hell, so's he, if he's honest.  But he's determined, too, stubborn as hell, and he's gonna make this right if it _does_  kill him.  So, he talks:  
  
"So," he says, rolling the world around in his mouth.  "You think Hank's gonna notice Raven wants to climb him?"  
  
Alex laughs a little.  "Nah.  Bozo probably doesn't realize a girl that hot could be into him."  
  
"Maybe."  Armando has his hopes, because Hank's a good guy, and Raven is sharp and no-bullshit, like Angel had been.  
  
Angel.  Damn.  It had been nice, for a little while, to have her around.  His Spanish is a little clumsier than hers -- he'd grown up in Harlem, after all.  Not always a lot of Spanish-speaking people, but he kept what he could.  
  
But that's a distraction.  She'd made her choices, and he'd made his.  
  
"What're you thinking about?" Alex ventures.  
  
"Angel," Armando admits, because Alex, for all his bullshit, doesn't take anybody else's. "Was just thinking about how there's nobody to speak Spanish to around here."  
  
Alex cocks his head to the side, sliding a little closer on the roof.  His hair's threaded strawberry in the blonde in the sunset light.  "You speak Spanish?"  
  
"Mhmm.  My name shoulda made that obvious, _chico_ ," he teases, grinning a little.  
  
"The only name I know you by is Darwin," Alex points out, his expression shuttering a little.    
  
Shit, that's right.  He'd introduced himself as Darwin, and that's all he's ever been.  Alex is practically his best friend, and doesn't even know his damn name.  
  
"Armando.  Armando Muñoz."  Maybe he's a little careful with it in his mouth.  People don't usually bother, once the nickname option presents itself, so when he says it at all he takes care of it, like an old record you only pull out of the case when you're dancing with someone special.  
  
Alex pauses for a moment, cocking his head in the other direction.  "Armando Muñoz," he murmurs back, and he's even more careful about it.  Like he's afraid he'll break it if he says it wrong.  And then, again, a smile curling at the edges of his mouth.  "Armando."  
  
Armando nods.  "That's it."  It's good he doesn't really blush, but Alex says his name in a way that makes something warm and ruffling take up residence behind his ribcage.  
  
"Armando," Alex says, grin widening a little, like he's still getting used to the name but wants to say it more.  
  
"Mhmm," Armando murmurs back, smiling too.  
  
Alex glances away, like he's suddenly nervous.  "Can I call you that?"   
  
It feels like a meaningful question -- one of the things that makes Armando think _maybe..._ \-- but Armando just nods and says, "Sure," like it's no big deal what Alex calls him.  
  
Alex nods, but doesn't say anything else.  The quiet's companionable --it usually is, between the two of them.  Armando doesn't push it, just lets it be.    
  
Moments like this, though, his body forgets that Alex can be dangerous, and all he wants to do is reach out and touch him.  He won't, though.  They haven't really touched since that night a month ago, when Armando's fingers had curled discreetly into Alex's hip to tell him what they needed to do.  
  
He regrets it, in hindsight.  Dying sucked, and the fallout has been even worse.  
  
Sometimes he has nightmares about that night, but he hasn't told anyone.  It's either none of their business or he wouldn't know how to bring it up.  
  
"You okay?" Alex asks, distracting him from that train of thought.  He looks a little anxious himself.  
  
"Yeah.  Just thinking."  
  
Alex bites the inside of his cheek.  "Wanna talk about it?"  
  
This is his chance.  But the sun's still setting, and he doesn't want to ruin the evening.  He doesn't want to hurt Alex with this.  
  
But Alex is looking at him with the kind of concern he doesn't get often.  
  
It's no contest, really, and there's a hot little flash of shame in his gut at that.  "That night, at the compound," he says, carefully.  
  
"Oh," Alex says, voice soft.  He leans back against the chimney, slumping a little.  
  
"You know I don't blame you, right?"  That's the first thing that needs to get clear.  He doesn't blame Alex at all.  This is on him, for coming up with the plan, and on Shaw, for killing him.  
  
Alex shifts again, unsettled.  "But it was my --"  
  
"Shh.  Shaw stole it."  Armando reaches over, finally, knocking his knuckles against the toe of Alex's sneaker -- the only part of him he can reach.  "It's not your fault."  
  
"Something always goes wrong.  Somebody always gets hurt."  Alex looks away, closes his eyes.  
  
There's history in those two sentences that Armando's gonna get out of him someday, but not tonight.  Instead, he shifts, slides over next to him.  "Yeah, maybe.  But now we know what Shaw can do.  So, when it comes time to take him out, we know better than to try that particular plan."  
  
That settles Alex a little.  "Promise me you're not gonna do anything like that again?"  
  
"I promise," Armando murmurs back, firmly.  He decides he's not gonna go into his issues tonight, either.  Because it looks like Alex needs this, just this.  
  
"Thank you."  He doesn't seem entirely convinced.  But he leans over, a little, his head on Armando's shoulder.  "I -- you're the only person I thought I might not hurt."  
  
And that's a heartbreak and a half.  Because while it's not Alex who hurt him, Darwin _has_ been hurt, and sometimes his body equates Alex and the burn in him with danger.  "You didn't hurt me," he says, "Shaw killed me, and then I came back."  
  
"You came back," Alex repeats, like part of him still doesn't believe it.  "Yeah, you did."  
  
"Pretty sure I'll always come back."  
  
"I'd rather you just didn't die anymore," Alex said, a twitch of dry humor in his voice.  
  
Armando laughed a little.  "I'll do my best, hotshot."  
  
Alex wrinkled his nose.  " _Havok_ ," he corrected.  
  
"Hotshot," Armando repeated, grinning now, and he shifted, slipping his arm around Alex's shoulders.  "I think it suits you."  
  
"Whatever," Alex said, rolling his eyes, and, from what Armando can see, it's fondly.  
  
Armando wants to kiss him so bad he could die of it, it you could die from wanting somebody too much.  But this isn't the time, so he just skims his thumb across Alex's shoulder and looks out at the darkening sky with a smile.

* * *

  
Something has definitely changed since the night on the roof.  Armando's glad of it, because Alex smiles more, and  he himself breathes a little easier.  
  
But those ' _maybe...'_  moments are happening more and more, now.  
  
Just today, in fact, Alex called him by his name in front of the others, and that, too, had felt like it meant something.  
  
Sean had looked puzzled, and Raven had smirked like she _knew_  something.  
  
He'd just grinned at Alex and answered his question -- a request, actually, and now they're down in the bunker.  Alex's bunker, really -- nobody else really needs it the way he does.  
  
"I want to try something," he'd said.  Armando wonders what he's getting into, but he trusts Alex, and part of him feels like that's something he has to prove.  
  
"What is it?" he asks, casual as anything.  
  
Alex shifts, expression going a little hesitant.  "I wanna practice my aim.  I'm good at targets that stay in one place, but I -- moving targets, I've not really had the chance to do that."  
  
"Right," Armando nods, "And you can't hurt me."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Armando nods again.  "We can do that."  He doesn't know how his mutation is going to react, but he wants to try this.  After all, one of the first things they'd ever done together involved Alex hitting him with a chair -- this isn't so different.  
  
Alex nods like he's a little surprised Armando agreed to it.  
  
They get started, Armando at one end of the bunker and Alex at the other.  Armando dodges what he can, absorbs or deflects what he can't, trying to stay one step ahead of Alex's hoops -- and that's another thing; Alex isn't wearing the carefully crafted focus plate Hank had made him.  He's going au naturel for this.  
  
Armando feels a surge of pride when he realizes that.  But it distracts him, and he gets hit square in the side by a particularly strong blast, one that knocks him over before he can regain his footing.  
  
"Shit!" Alex says, and there's fear in his voice, and footsteps as Armando pushes himself into a sitting position, the stone he'd grown slowly seeping back into flesh.  "Armando, Armando, are you okay?"  
  
He looks damn scared, so Armando smiles.  "Yeah.  You caught me off guard, that's all."  
  
"Good," Alex says, and he still looks and sounds shaky.    
  
Armando reaches out to him, pressing his hand gently to the edge of his neck, where his his skin meets his the collar of his t-shirt, not quite on his shoulder but close.  "I'm fine.  It didn't even bruise me."  
  
And it's a relief, an actual relief, because he doesn't know what he'd do if Alex could really, truly hurt him.  
  
Alex inhales at the touch.  "That's good," he breathes.  "Freaked for a minute there, though."  
  
"Sorry about that," Armando says, smiling again.    
  
This is one of those _maybe_ moments, but again, Armando doesn't want to push it.  This is progress, after all, a step back toward the instincts at the compound that had worked so wel, for them before Shaw ruined it all.  
  
Alex shakes his head.  "Not your fault," he says, smiling a little himself.  
  
Armando takes his hand back, and it's warm from the heat of Alex's skin.  "You know, hotshot, you're practically a radiator," he points out, smirking a little.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know."  That comes with a real smile.  
  
"Wanna go up to the kitchen, grab something to eat?" He's going to run with this good turn of luck as far as he can.  "Maybe head back up to the roof, see if there's anything interesting in the sky today."  
  
Alex rolls his eyes, but it's fond again.  "Yeah, sure."  
  
So they do.  
  


* * *

  
A few days later, Armando's reading in the library, stretched out on a couch.  He'd just gone a few rounds with Erik, which is usually a head-trip more than anything else, because the guy's ruthless.  It's keeping him sharp, though.  Technique is everything, and he's always known that.  
  
Erik just reminds him of that.  And yeah, it does mean he needs to decompress after, but it's keeping him in practice.  And given that they're waiting for Shaw's next move, that's important.  
  
He's reading a book on military strategy when Alex comes in grinning.  
  
"Hey," says, and flops over the back of the couch head first, nearly falling into Armando's lap.  "Guess what?"  
  
Armando smiles at him.  "What?"  
  
"Got permission to head down to Manhattan."  Alex grins.  "Wanna come with?"  
  
Armando doesn't need to think about it.  "Sure.  It's a big city -- I'd hate for you to get lost down there."  
  
"You're from there, right?"   
  
"Mhmm.  My whole life."  Armando likes the idea of going down to the city with Alex, the idea of showing him around a little.  
  
Alex nodded.  "I've never been.  Kinda grew up in the Midwest."  
  
He has a tinge of the accent, still, and Armando grins.  "Try not to be too culture-shocked when we get there, then."  
  
"You wanna go tomorrow?" Alex asks, and it's another one of those damn _maybe_  moments.  
  
Armando nods.  "Sure."  
  
Alex grins at him like sunshine and flops over, squeezing into the space between Armando and the back of the couch.  His head's sort of pillowed on Armando's shoulder now, and this feels like a little more than a _maybe._  
  
"What're you reading?" Alex asks.  
  
"Military history," Armando replies.  "Might be useful."  
  
Alex nods, quiet.  He shifts a little.  "You think we'll be okay?  If Shaw -- What if he wins?"  
  
"He won't."  Armando shifts, too, carefully, sliding his arm around Alex, since he was kind of laying on it, anyway.  
  
Alex frowns.  "You can't know that."  
  
"The way he sees it, he hasn't won as long as somebody's out there working to stop him, or end him."  Armando shrugs a little.  "And since he can't get rid of me, well..."  
  
"But..." Alex turns over, and he looks nervous.  "Can you survive a nuclear war?"   
  
Armando holds him a little tighter on instinct.  "Dunno.  Probably."  He gives him a lopsided little grin, trying to be reassuring.  "Probably won't have to."  
  
Alex sighs and drops his face back to Armando's shoulder.  Somewhere in the last few moments, his arm's draped itself around Armando's waist, and this is way, way past a _maybe_  kind of thing.  
  
So Armando puts his book down and just lays there for a moment, trying to figure out where to go from here.  He wants this, and things like it, and now that he's faced with it, he doesn't really know what to do -- he's good at people, sure, but nobody's ever really got this close before.  
  
And then Alex nuzzles -- _nuzzles_  -- closer.  And that's pretty much the last straw.  
  
"You flirting with me, hotshot?" he asks, casual, quiet.  
  
Alex freezes, and Armando kind of expected that but it still stings.  Alex leans back a little to look at him, searching for something, biting his lip.  
  
Armando waits.  He's a patient kind of guy.  
  
"Is that -- is that all right?" Alex asks, and that's another sentence with history.    
  
"Why wouldn't it be?"  He's the one, after all, who keeps letting Alex drift closer and closer, and hasn't stopped him once.  
  
Alex flushes.  "I -- it's just -- most people --"  
  
"Most people can't do the things you and I can," Armando points out, smiling a little.  "Don't think the 'most people' argument exactly qualifies, here."  
  
"So, you, uh, you..." Alex trails off, like he's not sure how to say it.  
  
"I'm into guys, yeah," Armando replies.  "I'm into you, in particular."  
  
"Oh," Alex says, quietly, and he looks a little dazed by it.  "Well, uh.  I'm -- I'm into you, too."  
  
Armando smiles a little wider.  "Good."  
  
"So -- is this?"  
  
"I think this is the part where you get down here and let me kiss you, hm?"  
  
Alex nods, suddenly emphatic, and leans down.  Armando meets him halfway, and slides his free hand into Alex's hair, doing his best to keep it gentle, keep it easy.  
  
Something warm, though, is blooming in his chest, and he likes it.  He might just chase it into Alex's mouth in a minute, but right now he's just aware of it, like he's aware of how soft Alex's hair is and how warm he is to touch.  
  
When the kiss ends, Alex is blushing.  "That was -- that was.  Really nice."  
  
Armando smiles.  "Yeah?  That's good."  Something occurs to him.  "Have you ever kissed anybody before?"  
  
"No," Alex admits.  "I -- uh.  Never got into girls, and then I was in jail."  
  
"I see."  Armando slides the hand in Alex's hair down to his cheek.  "I'm glad I got to be your first kiss."  
  
"Me too," Alex breathes, and there's something over-full in it, like there's something he's not saying.  
  
It matches the feeling sitting behind Armando's ribs, and Armando thinks _aw, shit_ , and then, _I love you._ He doesn't say so, though, because that's zero to sixty in three seconds on a crowded highway, and he doesn't want to run Alex down with it.  
  
This is plenty good enough, because he's got Alex in his arms, and his skin is warm and his smile is bright, and kissing him feels good.  
  
And that's all he really needs. 


End file.
